Solstice Storm
by SirPrickles
Summary: Jemima just wanted to see the solstice moon. But when a violent thunderstorm ruins her plans, she finds herself in a situation she did not expect...


**A/N: A story trade with Shrrgnien! She writes a lovely Phantom-of-the-Opera-themed songfic for Munkustrap and Demeter, and I write a romantic fairytale for Mistoffelees and Jemima! Kidding about the fairytale part. That's a bit too much to pull off. **

**Hope you like! This isn't my usual pairing (Misto/Victoria) but it's rather sweet and I'm fond of it. **

A loud thunderclap boomed overhead. Lighting flashed, violent and sickly yellow-white, illuminating thousands of raindrops pelting the tops of cars, sidewalk, and street. A small black-and-red cat raced down the sidewalk, trying vainly to dodge the rain.

She took temporary refuge under a mailbox, panting heavily.

Another burst of thunder caused her to cringe, pressing her trembling body into the concrete of the sidewalk.

"Jemima," the little red queen said, mimicking her mother's sing-song voice, "How ever did you get caught out in the storm, Jemima? Why aren't you safe at home, or in the den, where I told you to be?" She tentatively peered out of the underside of the mailbox. She blinked furiously. It was hard to make out much of anything under the cover of nighttime, clouds, and pouring rain. If only another flash of lighting would-

No. Jemima shivered Lighting wasn't as frightening as thunder, but it was still formidable. She edged out from under the mailbox, and raced for the shelter of a broad-leafed plant at the edge of some human family's gated lawn.

It was the solstice moon that started it.

Jemima, despite her better instincts, tilted her face up to look at the sky. There was no moon in sight anymore; angry black clouds covered it completely. Jemima searched desperately, but the rain smacking wetly against her forehead forced her to call off the search.

The solstice moon she wanted so badly wasn't there.

Jemima sighed and curled up, tucking her knees against her chest. Her paws rested tentatively on the moist dirt beneath her.

The winter solstice was a special time. The official, first-day-of-winter. The start of the holiday season full of lights and laughter and good cheer. Not to mention a spectacular moon rising; a full moon, heavy with ethereal beauty. Or the old legend that a solstice moon could grant a wish from an earnest heart...

A wish for someone special, maybe...

Jemima shook her head, clearing that thought. She just couldn't resist a good moon. When it rose, glowing like a pearl, spreading silvery light throughout the clouds, Jemima felt a tug at her insides. It seemed to her the very meaning of happiness was hidden up in that perfect orb, so many thousands of miles away.

"_If you find there_," she sang to herself, wistfully, "_the meaning of what happiness is._.." She trailed off and stared into the darkness.

Happiness certainly wasn't being stuck out on the streets the night of the solstice moon. Shivering, caught out in the nasty muck and pouring rain, wondering if those lights in the distance were near enough to reach or far, so far that they could give nothing but false hope...

Her mind leapt in memory of Grizabella, who had lived like this on the streets. Jemima felt an ache of sympathy for the grizzled old queen, who had finally found happiness in the Heavyside Layer. Her thoughts drifted to how fortunate she was, really, to have parents with a den and owners with a house. Some of her own friends didn't have as much-Electra had been a stray before coming to the Jellicle junkyard.

Jemima shook out her fur, forcing herself to move. She needed to find a better shelter-the leaf was secretly sucking the rain in and depositing it on Jemima's head.

"The meaning of happiness," Jemima muttered, rubbing her knees vigorously, "the meaning of happiness..." Involuntarily, her mind wandered towards the thought of a black tomcat, grinning impishly as he handed her a watering can. "The meaning of happiness is...warmth!" She fluffed her fur again, from her ears to the tip of her tail. By puffing out, she tried to create a layer insulated air. It didn't really work.

Jemima scowled. Stupid solstice moon. Stupid thunderstorm. Stupid...electricity. Jemima's fur crackled with static.

It was time to risk heading to the lights. Near, or far-getting to a house was much better than hanging out under a moist plant.

Jemima held her breath, unwilling to step back into the downpour. Another bolt of lightning split the sky.

Strangely, the brilliant light invigorated her. It felt as if, somehow, it was a friend sent to help her.

Lightning...

Jemima sprinted out into the street. She ran blindly towards the first light she could see, a pale yellow-orange glow somewhere to her left. As she got closer, through the pattering rain she could see it was a two-story apartment flat, and the light was coming from behind a glass window on the second story. The rest of the flat was closed and dark.

But that window was open! Slightly, just a little bit, but open! Jemima rubbed her eyes with her dripping paws. Definitely open! Jemima silently thanked Heavyside for the crazy human, probably an old, senile grandma, who had left it open.

She quickly scanned the flat's facade, and spotted a drainpipe running from the rain gutter to the ground. It passed within a few inches of the window.

Really, it couldn't have been more perfectly placed if it was intended.

Jemima clambered up the pipe, wincing as her body touched the freezing metal. After a struggle upward, rain beating at her neck and back like millions of tiny stones, Jemima reached the sill and dug into the worn, wet wood with her claws. She heaved herself into the window, barely fitting through the opening.

Sometimes, she was thankful she was so small.

Jemima rolled herself onto a smooth, hard surface, and collapsed, exhausted. She panted and, with great effort, raised a paw to wipe the bleary rain from her eyes. She had no idea where she was, but it was warm and quiet and blissfully, magnificently, dry.

"Jemima? What in the world are you doing here?"

She gasped and sat bolt upright, blinking the rest of the moisture from her red eyes.

Mr. Mistoffelees, the original conjuring cat, was staring at her in shock.

Jemima rubbed her eyes again. Was this the solstice moon playing tricks on her? It couldn't be-that her wish-?

"Jem?" He crawled closer. Black ears, straining in shock, dark brown eyes, narrowed in concern, and a twitching black tail-she took it all in and accepted that, somehow, someway, she had adventitiously ended up in Mistoffelees' owner's house.

"Misto," she said, wishing she sounded cheerful and friendly instead of shivery and exhausted.

"You're freezing!" he exclaimed, rubbing a paw over her shoulder.

Thunder roared and lightning flashed at once. Jemima's hair rose on end, but it wasn't merely the electricity.

Mistoffelees started vigorously rubbing her shoulders and back, swatting away the excess water. His paws felt rather rough, as though he disapproved of her showing up dripping on his human's window-side table.

Jemima quivered. Now that she was safe and warm, with Misto murmuring and fussing over her like a mother hen, rubbing her tail, using his own warmth to envelop her tiny shivering frame, she felt guilty, like a little kitten. She didn't want him thinking she was crazy, or irresponsible, being on the streets on a night like this.

"Victoria was supposed to go with me," she blurted out. "We were going moon-gazing." Immediately her heart dropped to her stomach. Why did she have to bring up Victoria? Sweet, lovely, talented, beautiful Victoria?

"Moon-gazing?" Mistoffelees' tone was wry. Jemima knew this incident would do nothing for her reputation as a starry-eyed dreamer. She twitched violently, then forced herself to shake it off.

"It _is_ the winter solstice moon," Jemima said, conversationally.

Misto stepped up next to her, leaving off his ministrations, and peered out the window. "_Is_ it?" he asked mischievously.

Jemima stretched out, flexing the trembling muscles. They felt stronger. She looked up at the black tom, who was gazing down at her with unmistakable amusement. "Did you magically fix me?" Jemima exclaimed, experimentally wiggling her fingers.

He laughed. "With my charming presence."

"Oh?" Jemima kept a straight face.

Misto sat down next to her and leaned back. "So, while you were gazing at the moon, did you happen to notice the storm up there?"

Jemima smacked him playfully. "Yes! And quickly, too! Now why," she asked, indicating the slightly open window before them, "is this open? Your human forget it?"

Misto smiled secretly. "No, no...that was my doing." In response to her wide-open brown eyes, he said: "Stormy nights are my favorite."

Thunder boomed. Jemima jumped despite herself. Embarrassed, she settled back into her original spot, avoiding Misto's eyes.

He watched her carefully. "Lighting bursting from the sky-it makes me feel-_alive_." The way he said "alive" made Jemima shiver. It held the same longing she felt when gazing at the moon.

"We both have sky fascination," she chirped. "You like electrical discharge, I like big floating rocks."

They both laughed at that, Misto nearly falling over. When they sobered up, Jemima found that he was much closer, so close that she could see flecks of silver in his fur. From his fur she looked to his face absently, suddenly relieved that he was again staring out into the storm.

But he remembered her. "Aw, Jem. I'm sorry." He stood up.

Jemima's heart sank a little lower. "What's up?"

Misto looked at her. "You. You're freezing. I should have gotten you..." he tore through the room. He overturned a pile of human books, slipped between a wastebasket and the wall, and raked over a plush loveseat opposite the table.

Jemima marveled at the way he did all this ransacking in perfect quiet and grace, the lean muscles in his back and arms the only testament to his intensity. Misto swept the floor under the table before sighing and bounding back up to her side.

"Can't find any blankets!" he said apologetically.

"Maybe you can just hold me?" Jemima said, in the tone of one thinking up the most logical answer to a problem.

For an answer, Mistoffelees wrapped both arms around her tiny frame. He nuzzled her right ear. "Better?"

She nodded, relaxing into him. His chest was wonderfully warm.

Lighting flashed across the sky. It illuminated an old chapel across the street.

A long, comfortable pause followed. Jemima breathed in the scent of the room and the tomcat next to her. Oddly, space heater and a touch of mint.

"Why so quiet, Good Monsieur?" Jemima teased.

Misto grinned. "Don't want to wake a rather grumpy tomcat in the other room."

"Ah," Jemima said wisely, remembering that Misto's brother lived in the same flat. "Why is he grumpy?"

"Static electricity does things to his mane. Terrible, fuzzy things."

Jemima's giggle was loud. Misto stifled her. "Shh!" But his face was also screwed up with the effort of holding back laughter.

The little red-and-black queen buried her face in the tomcat's chest. He wasn't the tallest in the Jellicle junkyard, but he certainly wasn't the skinniest. A good layer of muscle covered his ribs. She could stay like this forever, laughing, simply enjoying his company and wanting nothing more. She closed her eyes. The mint smell of his fur was strong and sweet in her nose.

Suddenly, Jemima noticed that he wasn't laughing anymore. He was absolutely still. She sat up, flushing despite her best efforts.

Misto was looking at her, with a soft expression and a slight frown. Thunder boomed.

Jemima's heart pounded. He was looking at her so...intently. Like he had an intent, or some thought that was bothering him. She opened her mouth-

But he spoke suddenly. "Do you want me to close the window? Are you cold?"

She dropped her head. "No, I'm fine." She was suddenly miserable. "How's Vic?"

Misto said slyly, "You know better than I do. Although...maybe we should ask Plato?"

All Jellicles knew Plato was crazy about Victoria. But most also thought that Mistoffelees was, too. He and Victoria were night inseparable, and had been for many years. Everyone, including Jemima, knew they were friends. But were they something more...?

Jemima didn't know either way for sure. She hoped it was "No". But she didn't dare to ask that.

"Why would Plato know?"

"She's been spending a lot of time with Plato," Misto grinned. "But don't let's talk about Plato. That would...dampen...the evening."

Jemima laughed at his pun. "Should we talk about...Vic?"

"No, but getting warmer." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Jemima caught on. She pretended to ponder. "Hmmm...Alonzo?"

"Colder." His voice was cold as well. Jemima snuggled into his side, and he loosened up.

"Electra?"

"Warmer." Now both arms were around her, holding her tight to his chest.

"Could it be...me?"

Lightning flashed, brighter than before.

"That means yes."

Jem let out a giggle. "Do you control the lightning? Isn't it a little bigger than your usual lightning?"

"Hey!" he protested. "My lightning does the job."

"But this lightning is uncontrollable." Jemima put her chin on his chest and gazed up into his eyes.

Misto said, in a low voice: "It brought you here, didn't it?"

Jemima couldn't speak. He lowered his face and brought his lips to hers.

The kiss was soft and searching. Jemima couldn't breathe.

Misto pulled back, paw cupping the side of her face.

Jemima nuzzled his paw, catching his thumb on her nose. She wrinkled it. He suppressed a smile and whispered, "You don't know how long I've wanted to do that."

Jemima, gathering her courage, said: "Do it again!"

Misto's eyebrows raised in surprise, but he didn't need much convincing. He leaned in, capturing her lower lip in his, paws holding her tightly and tail intertwining with her own. Jemima moved with him, against him-her nails buried themselves in the back of his head.

Thunder rang from the sky. Jemima started, looking wildly around. She gasped. "Misto! The solstice moon!" Through a gap in the swollen rainclouds, they could see the full moon, giving off a silvery glow that seemed to Jemima, especially magical. Especially in light of recent events.

She hugged Mistoffelees tightly. His paws pressed gently but firmly into her lower back, his face cheek-to-cheek with hers as they gazed at the stormy sky. Jemima squeezed her eyes shut and thought, _Thank you, Solstice Moon._

This was, give or take a few million raindrops, exactly what she had wished for.


End file.
